Trapped
by Phoesong
Summary: When Bloo breaks the rules again, he discovers a secret trapdoor hidden in the Foster's mansion. Despite warnings not to open it, he does, and accidentally unleashes an enormous power testing the bonds of loyalty. But in times like this, friendship is key to holding everyone together. Genre changed. Please review! My first fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1: Down the Trapdoor

**Author's Note: **

I've juggled this plot bunny for the past few days lately. And so, I present you my first fanfiction!

Please excuse any atrocious grammatical errors found; I do take the effort to double-check my work.

Criticism and reviews are welcome!

* * *

Trees dressed themselves in scarlet reds and vivid yellows, showing off their vivacious hues. Birds chirped harmonious songs of migration, like bards of the old. The cool afternoon breeze picked up scattered petals, creating swirling patterns and shapes. However, people briskly walked past, too obsessed in their own businesses to spare a glance at nature's beauty. Surely someone admired the surrounding wonders?

But wait! An 8-year old boy laughed merrily as he ran through piles of brown, desiccated leaves. Beaming with radiant happiness, Mac created satisfying crunches as he stepped on particularly dry ones. Deeply inhaling fresh scents of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air, the little child alone seemed to marvel at the arrival of autumn.

With a buoyant leap, Mac increased his pace to a light jog when he spotted a familiar silhouette of a building against the horizon. The magnificent Victorian mansion on Wilson Way never failed to fill him with excitement, and he immensely cherished his time there. Foster's felt like a warm refuge, a place in which he had another family to call "home." A rather wild family of Madame Foster, Wilt, Coco, Frankie, Eduardo, and the other imaginary friends. Not to forget Bl–

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A rather girly scream shattered the tranquility just as a perplexed Mac clambered up the stairs. Baffled, he cocked his head and inched warily to the doorbell…

And suddenly, the front doors burst open loudly, revealing a squealing overgrown blueberry hurtling towards him.

An Unidentified Flying Bloo Object to be more precise.

"Mac! MAAAAAAAAAAC! SAVE MEEEEEEEEE!"

Emitting an "oof" as he was rammed in the stomach, Mac was sent flying through the air thanks to laws of momentum. Sadly, gravity gradually pulled both unlucky friends down, and they tumbled onto the walkway in a tangled, painful heap. Mac crashed into the cement roughly, groaning in disorientation while Blooregard Q. Kazoo immediately extricated himself and began to babble hysterically,

"Mac, you've gotta help me! There's a…angry refrigerator…think of…fluffy snowmen…AHHH, She's gonna EAT ME!"

Shaking off his temporary daze, Mac addressed his quivering friend with an exasperated tone.

"Bloo, what did you do now?"

"I-I didn't do anything wrong, if that's what YOU'RE implying! All I've done is wait for my best buddy QUIETLY to return from school. Yeah that's it!"

Memories of a blackened roof smoldering to ashes, a shattered bust covered in toothpaste, and explosive wrath of _very_ angry mall security strongly urged Mac to laugh from sheer disbelief. Snapping out of the ridiculous desire to either giggle uncontrollably or groan comically, he composed himself to deliver a reprimand – trust me, plowing 10 miles an hour headfirst into the cement hurts A LOT – until he studied Bloo more closely. The imaginary friend seemed to have experienced an event of the most awful, of the most HORRIBLE nature. Trembling violently from head to toe and stuttering incoherently, his pal struck a pitiful form. Mac's sympathy overcame his suspicions witnessing Bloo's pathetic transformation, and he gently restated his question.

"Bloo…? What happened?"

As if on cue, a red-haired woman kicked open the front doors and glared furiously at the quaking blue creation. Standing on the doorway, it was absolutely remarkable how this kindhearted woman now resembled a fiery demon. Panting heavily, she hollered,

"Blooregard Q. Kazoo! You have the nerve to – oh, hi there, Mac," Frankie interjected, gaze slightly softening as she passed the equally frightened boy sitting on the ground; however, she was not yet finished with the pale, terrified mischief-maker standing next to his creator. Not even close.

"Bloo, I told you a million times NOT to touch the whipped cream I stored in the refrigerator! And for Heaven's sake, whipped cream is NOT snow, and you shouldn't make snowmen all over the house! Now I have to drive to the store to restock all the whipped cream and don't have time to clean up your mess! Come back and start scrubbing – Bloo? Stop running and get your blue butt over here! NOW!"

* * *

"I should have known you wreaked havoc…_again_," Mac moaned as he avidly dabbed some of the melted whipped cream with a sponge.

"But you just couldn't resist my awesome charm, as always," replied Bloo, who had finally regained his egotistical personality. He turned away hastily, but not before receiving a glare from his creator.

"Bloo, I know that we're best friends and all, but I have to take responsibility for your actions! Besides, it's really humiliating for me to fix who-knows-what you've done every day!"

"I'm sorry, Bloo, but I told you that it was a bad idea. And besides, Frankie is always neck-deep in chores," Wilt added. He had kindly agreed to help, and the three of them along with Eduardo and Coco were fighting the army of whipped cream snowmen. Being the tallest of the five, the lanky red friend was sweeping the floor with a mop.

Optimistic as always, Wilt continued, "But look on the bright side! At least we're going to gain some muscle power from this."

"Hooray," Bloo grumbled.

"Coco! Cococococo coco co!" Coco, the bird/plane/plant imaginary friend fired off.

"Si! Azul should learn from his mistakes," Eduardo agreed, polishing the floor, which Coco had previously dried by flapping her wings.

Although Bloo tired of being lectured, he admitted inwardly that his friends were quite correct. But he resisted the urge to apologize; Bloo's soft heart rarely overpowered his insensitive, stubborn exterior. As far as he was concerned, Blooregard Q. Kazoo was _never_ wrong. And whipped cream is so _irresistible_. So soft, poofy, and creamy…

"There wasn't a _rule_ stating that I wasn't allowed to take whipped cream and spray it all over the house! Right? Therefore I haven't stepped a single toe out of line."

Mac halted and faced his creation gravely.

"One day, breaking rules will get you in serious trouble," Mac warned. "And you might not be able to get off as easily next time–"

"Alright, I get the point, Mr. Goody Two-shoes! But scrubbing floors isn't easy; it's hard!"

"Cococo cococo!"

"Uh, Senor Bloo? You've been wiping the same piece of floor for the past hour."

Exhaling a deep breath, Bloo moved over to another spot, plunked down, and started furiously cleaning with a brush.

"You guys are so–"

Whatever Bloo was about to say slipped out of his mind as squinted at the floor he had scrubbed. He continued to blankly gaze the floor in front of him, mouth gaping. Of course, his momentary silence had not gone unnoticed.

"Uh, Bloo? Are you okay? I'm sorry, but you really don't look okay. Is that okay?"

"Coooco?"

"Ahhhhhhhh! Azul is FROZEN! Maybe whipped cream _is_ snow! Or…it's ALIVE!"

"Earth to Bloo? Hello?"

All inquiries halted when Bloo faced them, the fattest smile gracing his face–a smile that indicated more mischief. Wildly throwing his brush so forcefully that it rebounded off the ceiling ("That's not okay," Wilt interjected), Bloo pointed ecstatically at the floor.

"Look at what I found! Isn't it amazing?" Bloo gushed.

Hoping that the azure, door-shaped friend had not called them to view his own reflection on the wet ground, they leaned forward. Expecting wooden floor, they were sorely surprised when a barely noticeable piece of camouflaged metal poked out. Rubbing off the remaining dry paint with his hand, Bloo uncovered a grand, glinting, gold handle. And not only just a handle…

"A handle to a trap door!" Bloo blurted out in awe.

* * *

"No."

"Pretty pleaaaaaase with sugar on top?"

"No."

"Oh right, you can't eat sugar. How about a cherry–"

"No."

"Oh, come oooooooooooooon–"

For the past hour, Bloo had refused to budge off the trapdoor handle, grasping it in an iron-tight grip. The others had each struggled in vain to pull him off; every time they achieved victory by force, tickling, or reasoning, Bloo simply reattached himself to the metal like a magnet. Meanwhile, the exhausted Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco spectated the ongoing debate as Mac paused with an incredulous look.

"No, Bloo! You've already been in trouble once, and causing another fiasco the same day is just…absurd!"

"But it's a _secret_ trapdoor, Mac! Don't you wonder what's inside?"

Bloo did have a point there; Mac was full to the brim with unanswered questions. _What exactly was under that trapdoor? And why was it hidden in the first place?_ However, plunging thoughtlessly into danger like a carefree chicken diving into a pool of starving sharks didn't exactly hold much appeal to him.

"Even if you enter, wouldn't you need provisions…? Like rope?"

"A good prankster is always prepared," stated Bloo. Winking at their dumbfounded expressions, he procured a coil of rope that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "But we could always use Wilt! He's like a walking ladder!"

Mac opened his mouth to retort–

"Some doors remain closed for a reason, you know."

As a quiet voice pierced the conflict like a hot knife through butter, everyone turned their heads to the newcomer in the scene.

"It's Senorita Cassandra!" Eduardo shouted.

Draped in a pale white dress and with a somewhat slim hominoid appearance, Cassandra looked like a frail ghost. Her ice blue eyes looked both kind and sad, and the friend herself was filled with a calm melancholy and pain.

"Cassandra?" Bloo asked in his usual bluntness.

"Oh, she arrived here yesterday," explained Wilt. With a sad expression, he added, "Her creator's parents abandoned her."

"Why?"

"Bloo–" Mac threw caution to the winds, but surprisingly, Cassandra answered his question, albeit with a misery.

"My ability scared my creator's family. You see, I can grasp glimpses of the future. Visions."

"Really? Cool!" Bloo exclaimed.

She smiled bitterly.

"Such abilities come with a terrible price."

"How much? A dollar? Two? Because I can afford it! Name your cost."

Sighing, Mac lightly elbowed Bloo in the arm.

"Bloo, you can't spend Monopoly money, and she doesn't mean that kind of price."

"Oooooooooh…barter, eh? I'll trade you anything except my paddleballs."

Mac face palmed. Cassandra patiently watched the exchange, and then continued on urgently.

"The consequences are dire. You would learn much from entering that trapdoor, but you may also lose the cards you possess now. Be careful for what you wish for!"

And with that declaration, the pale friend glided away, leaving only awkward silence behind her.

Then–

"She's definitely a rip-off artist. OW!" Bloo yelped as Coco kicked him in the shin.

"Bloo? I'm sorry to say this, but maybe this isn't such a great idea."

All four friends began to argue, breaking out into chaos.

Now Blooregard Q. Kazoo wasn't stupid; he preferred to _act_ recklessly 99% of the time.

Normally Bloo would have spotted the gravity of the situation by now. Normally Bloo would have recognized his wrongdoings and stayed low for the rest of the day. Normally Bloo might have even devised a diligent plan to sneak out after dark. But the arrival of Cassandra had annoyed him to no end. She had unintentionally pushed him off the edge. He snorted.

_What acreepy weirdo."I grasp glimpses of the future." Hot air, more like. __I mean, come on! And h__er patronizing look–ARRGH! I am NOT a little kid! __As if she thought she could upstage me? Me? Blooregard Q. Kazoo? And how dare that fraud order me around like a bossy know-it-all?_ He fumed. Carried away by the heat of the irritation, Bloo acted on pure impulse.

Stomping over to the trapdoor, Bloo seized the golden handle with a sudden burst of speed. Mac, realizing what Bloo intended to do, yelped,

"Wait, Bloo! Wait!"

Poised dramatically with one foot on the trapdoor, Bloo declared,

"No one _ever_ tells Blooregard Q. Kazoo what to do!"

As the others frantically leapt to their feet, Bloo pulled the handle with all the strength he could muster. Halfway in his hurried plight, the trapdoor froze; its hinges stuck. Bloo racked his brains frantically and – _Yes! Why didn't he think of that before? If he couldn't open that door, then there was only one who could._

_3 steps. 3 crucial steps to Ze Moste Awesomest plan_._ Deep breaths, Blooregard. No messing up._

_Step 1._ Bloo quickly tied one end of his rope into a loop and fastened the other end to the handle. _Now for Step 2._

"Edwardo! Monsters! Scary monsters! Behind you!" He shrieked. "RUN!"

As realization of Bloo's plot dawned in his eyes, Mac shouted,

"No Eduardo, Bloo's lying! He's–"

Too late. Eduardo reared like a frightened bull and charged toward the trapdoor, bellowing in fright. Bloo steadied the rope in his hands like a bull fighter.

_Initiating Step 3._

_Ready,_

_Set,_

_ACTION!_

With a cry, Bloo dodged the terrified purple guardian friend and launched his improvised lasso. The rope seemed to twist and turn in slow motion as it sailed across to its destination. As the loop successfully tightened on Eduardo's left horn, Wilt, Coco, and Mac raced forward desperately to stop him. Alas, their endeavors were in vain!

With a vicious tug, Eduardo's abnormally large strength successfully yanked the trapdoor free. _Mission Successful_. Bloo kneeled close to the edge of the gaping hole and peered down.

But Bloo had assumed that the trapdoor would simply open, allowing him some time to glance at what it concealed.

However, the strong rope surprisingly held, and force rebounded. As the taut rope reached its limit, Eduardo snapped back like an elastic band. With a "twang," the gentle giant was thrown into the air! Instinctively, his hands scrabbled for anything - _ANYTHING_ - to stop his motion.

Unfortunately, that "anything" was Wilt.

And as Wilt stumbled back from the impact, his long legs tripped over the rope (which snapped into two), sweeping Mac and Coco off their feet. Pinwheeling, the group slid on the slippery, damp floor,

Crashing straight into Bloo's back

And free-falling into the mysterious depths of the hole.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

To clarify, Cassandra is my OC.

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends_  
_


	2. Chapter 2: Midnight Questions

**Author's Note: I noticed the lack of responses...But I returned back to write more because I felt like it. But please leave reviews if you can! It really would help me. Constructive criticism is especially welcome.**

**Again, I do not own Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends or any related franchise.**

* * *

Plummeting like rocks, the absolutely surprised gang zoomed through the mysterious tunnel. Pitch-black darkness enveloped them like a giant blanket.

And Blooregard Q. Kazoo was simply BURSTING with excitement.

"THIS IS SO COOOOOOOOL!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH HHHHHHHHH!"

He craned his neck and squinted to observe his falling friends.

_Ah yes, they were screaming with joy. Very predictable. _

Eduardo had covered his eyes covered, continuously spouting an endless stream of Spanish words, whimpering something sounding suspiciously like "Mama."

Teeth gritted, Wilt hurtled through the air like a speeding missile, cheeks ballooned into comical proportions by g-force and repeatedly mouthing "This is not okay! This is definitely not okay!"

Coco was only looking mildly annoyed, as if falling through a forbidden trapdoor without backup was the most ordinary occurrence on a normal Friday evening.

Mac was torn between the thrill of the ride and outright terror. His widened eyes were bulging, and Bloo could tell that his creator was furiously thinking of anything – ANYTHING – to escape this predicament.

_Mac is such a killjoy._

But then again, maybe landing was a big dilemma after plunging several meters like a rock. _On the other hand, maybe I should've followed Mac's example and carried a backpack. One with a handy parachute inside._

Before Bloo could mourn his regret of backpacks, everyone collapsed onto the ground with a loud crash.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!"

For several minutes, not a word was spoken.

"Wasn't that AWESOME?" Bloo burst out.

Groans filled the air.

"So what do we do now?" Mac inquired, rubbing his head and gazing into the square patch of light above them. "We fell down pretty far."

"I say we explore! Hunt for TREASURE!"

"Uh Bloo, maybe we should just leave?" Wilt suggested.

And the trapdoor conveniently swung shut, leaving total darkness behind.

* * *

"How are we going to escape?"

The imaginary friends and boy were sitting in a circle, a bright lamp (courtesy of Coco's egg) placed in the middle of the group. Judging from the space illuminated by the lantern, Mac had deduced that they had fallen into an old storage room. Several boxes filled the vast compartment. Bloo was trudging around opening boxes, picking up random items, and giving off loud exclamations.

"We could yell for help. Hopefully someone might come...?"

"Wow, look at Frankie in THIS photo! She looks so tiny and fat!"

"Cococo coco co cocococo."

"Coco's right; that won't work. Let me think...All we need-"

"Oooh...Jewelry!" Bloo gushed as he opened a box packed with gems.

"-Bloo! Be quiet! I can't concentrate!"

"Why?"

"Just...nevermind."

"No one can hear us," Eduardo whimpered sadly. "A-and senorita Cassandra said..." He gulped.

Eduardo suddenly started to bawl loudly.

"It is my fault we are trapped! I was a big scaredy-baby, and now, we are never getting out of this scary dark place! Never!" The gentle purple friend wailed, tears gushing out into rapid streams of water. Wilt quickly placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't say that, Eduardo! It wasn't your fault. And besides, we'll probably escape before nightfall. Someone would notice the trapdoor, right?

"Coco co co cococo," Coco trilled kindly.

"Yeah Ed. Don't beat yourself up, of course it wasn't your fault," Mac added gently. He shot a glare to the azure back of a particular figment, who was now inspecting a sapphire ring.

"What?" Bloo countered defensively.

"Apologize," Mac mouthed furiously, pointing to Eduardo and waving his arms like a windmill.

"Why do I have to apologize all the - AUGH!" he replied, throwing up his blobby arms in exasperation.

Silent glares and wild gestures were exchanged unbeknownst to the others.

After an infuriatingly long minute of staring each other down, Bloo sighed, but grudgingly marched up to Eduardo.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled almost incoherently.

As pathetic as his statement seemed, Eduardo's face immediately brightened up like lights on a Christmas tree, and he hugged Bloo with such force that all breath was squeezed out of him.

"Thank you, Senor Bloo! You are mi mejor amigo!"

"T-t-too...tight!" gasped the poor azure figment.

The pleading look in his eyes and wild panic was too much for Mac to handle, and he burst out into laughter at the cute scene. Wilt and Coco eventually joined in, emitting peals of giggles and guffaws while Bloo tried to save his pride by squirming and wiggling like a trapped earthworm.

"ICK! Put me DOWN! Eduardoooooo!"

"Hey Bloo, you seem to be enjoying this a lot. You sure you don't want another hug?"

"Oh, shut up. You won't be happy when I will get my revenge on you!"

His futile struggles only brought another wave of hysterical howling. Bloo crossed his arms with a grumpy face, only fueling the uncontrollable round of amusement. But his expression gradually softened, and he found himself chuckling along with the others, a goofy smile plastered to his face. For now, it was just him and a ring of chums stuck in a random storage room, laughing their heads off. The world was perfect.

* * *

"The world is definitely NOT perfect," Frankie Foster fumed, carrying a heaping assortment of shirts, pants, socks, and attire. Don't get the wrong assumption; Frankie LOVED her job. Although the work was taxing, she sincerely enjoyed helping out imaginary friends Even receiving a warm smile or two made her day. However, the usually upbeat caretaker had just returned home with whipped cream only to be bombarded with a hail of reprimands delivered by Mr. Herriman.

_Ms. Frances, the tip of this sock is wet by a tenth of an inch. Please gather up and dry all the laundry from the 2nd floor properly._

_Ms. Frances, t__here is a speck of dirt on that counter. T__he kitchen is insanitary and teeming with despicable microorganisms! _

_Ms. Frances, I am absolutely disappointed in your utter lack of responsibility!_

"That no good, uptight rabbit! Oooh...Why can't he wait just one second? One, darn, little secon-"

The intercom turned on, buzzing with static. Frankie groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, yes, I've dried the laundry! I'm just organizing-"

"Frankie, come up to the 3rd floor right now! Drop whatever you're doing, just come quickly!" A high-pitched voice _very_ different from Mr. Herriman's deep authoritative one snapped.

Frankie gaped, mind running a million miles an hour. Her grandmother never used the intercom. What had happened?

Debating internally about where to place the clothes, Frankie finally decided to set them down on a nearby chair rather than on the floor. After all, drying all garments once was bad enough. Twice would be beyond dreadful. And she honestly wasn't sure if Mr. Herriman would be content with a pile of clean clothes lying on the floor. He'd probably throw a fit. As Frankie tore through the hallways and sped up countless stairways, she fervently hoped that Bloo wasn't behind this madness. Again.

Too bad she was dead wrong.

* * *

_Two hours later_

Bloo had finally climbed up the rope ladder. He landed softly onto the tiled floor next to a weary Eduardo, Coco, and Wilt. After being reprimanded by Mr. Herriman, Mac had already left; noticing the late time, he had trudged home in a downcast manner.

"Shoving yourselves into a random trapdoor, What in the world were you guys THINKING?" Frankie burst out in bewilderment, while an irritated Mr. Herriman and shocked Madame Foster stood next to her.

"Well, I was cleaning the floor diligently until this _stupid_ trapdoor suddenly appeared out of nowhere and swallowed up Eduardo! I heroically dashed forward to rescue him, but Wilt just _had_ to trip over Coco and pushed us all in!"

"Sorry Bloo, but that's not what-"

"It's true! And the trapdoor magically came into existence! Shabam! It-"

"Bloo! How did you find this trapdoor? I thought you were supposed to be cleaning-"

"That is clearly unacceptable behavior, Master Blooregard. Consequences shall be made for the private intrusion of-"

"Co cococo co co coco-"

"I never want to go there again. It was muy muy dark, and muy muy scary, and muy muy-"

"Really, I just found it lying on the floor."

"Cococo! Co co coco!"

"Stop babbling and please say the _truth_, Bloo!"

"Um, I really hate to interrupt, but-"

"QUIET!" Bloo shrieked out.

Everyone turned to face him, shocked.

"I was saying the truth! Okay, look. I just discovered this weird handle after scrubbing the floor really, really hard and found this random trapdoor. And as everyone knows, trapdoors conceal treasure! And -"

"Get to the point, Bloo."

"-so we all fell in. And then you, Madame Foster, found stuck there! But seriously, WHY DID YOU DECIDE TO CONSTRUCT A RANDOM STORAGE ROOM IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE? And DUCHESS has a trapdoor! I want oooooooooone-"

"You don't need a trapdoor! And besides, Duchess's room just happened to have one." Frankie explained. "But Bloo does have a good point, grandma. Why was this storage room hidden? It just had random pieces of jewelry and other stuff." she asked with a frown.

"Oh, Frankie, I don't know why those useless things were there in the first place," Madame Foster stated in her cheery manner.

"Useless? But that's got to be worth a fortune!"

"Ah, I don't need them at all, dearie. They're worthless like a bananas to a lion. Like rocks to a little old lady."

"Why don't we sell them to renovate the house?" Frankie suggested. "Upgrade the facilities."

"No, Frankie." Madame Foster stated.

"Or we could convert the jewelry into money for our emergency fund! You did say that-"

"No." An odd firmness had crept into her voice.

"But grandma, look at this stuff! We could easily improve the lives of all the imaginary friends here at Foster's! Think about it!"

Madame Foster whirled around, unusually losing her composure, and pointed her cane at her granddaughter.

"I said NO! And when I say no, I mean it! You can't teach a horse to drink from water when she doesn't want to! And don't you all dare go anywhere near that room again!" She shrieked.

The owner of the house walked away stiffly in a huff. Mr. Herriman exchanged anxious glances with Frankie and then hurried after his creator.

"Madame, wait! Please come back!" His form quickly disappeared around the corner.

Stunned silence. Frankie was rooted to the ground, slack-jawed and unmoving.

"Frankie?" Wilt prodded her in the shoulder gently, trying to shake her out of her stupor.

"I-I-I didn't mean to offend her...B-But...I-I don't understand. Why did grandma..." Frankie trailed off, upset.

"It's okay, Frankie, I think you just went too far...But do you think Madame Foster needs any help?" Wilt softly inquired, staring at the place Madame Foster had disappeared.

"No, I think Mr. Herriman can deal with it for now. You guys...go eat dinner downstairs. Make sure that Bloo doesn't...cause any more trouble..."

As all of them slowly headed toward their respective duties, they failed to notice a pair of sad eyes peeking out an opened door.

* * *

Bloo gazed up at the bunk where Eduardo was snoring.

Moonlight drifted into the room, bathing it in a silver hue. He could see Coco slumbering peacefully, and he heard the low murmurs of the sleeptalking Wilt underneath. Softly brushing aside the bed sheets, he fingered an item he had removed from the storage room:

A golden bracelet shaped like a coiled snake with a fat, glittering ruby protruding from its mouth.

He hadn't meant to take it. Just before he climbed the rope ladder, its luster and curious design had seized his attention. Having a limited attention span, he had decided toss it back earlier, but changed his mind after Madame Foster's outburst. Curiosity bubbled through his veins, keeping him wide-awake. _What did Madame Foster want to hide? Why did she act like that? And why on earth did she have all this jewelry in that room?_

Excited, he couldn't wait to tell Mac about his current theory: Madame Foster, feared pirate of the seven seas. He would be thrilled!

But then again...

_You took this bracelet from Madame Foster without permission. Isn't that stealing?_

_No, borrowing. I'm just borrowing it for the time being as evidence. _Bloo argued internally. He groaned. Why did Mac's subconscious morals choose to affect him now?

But he couldn't confess to Madame Foster now; he felt too guilty. Who was he admit that he caused trouble again? Once or twice perhaps...but three times, all in the same day? Frankie would _never_ let him out of her sight again...

"Don't worry," Bloo reassured himself out loud. "It's not like I wanted to sell it or keep it forever...I'll just put it back tomorrow. No one will need to know that I took it then, right?"

Trying to ignore the pangs of guilt, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

**Author's note: I promise more action to come. For now, bear with me. :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Under Lock and Key

**Author's note: **

**Wow, 130+ views and a review! You**** guys have been great! Thanks for all your support. ;)**

******Enough of the lollygagging: I present to you chapter 3. ****Again, reviews are appreciated!**

**I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends and any other franchise mentioned in the text.**

* * *

Blooregard Q. Kazoo hated punishments. They weren't even productive at all. How on earth was staring at a wall for an hour going to teach him anything?

Yep, he was grounded. A furious Mr. Herriman had hopped over to him this morning in person to deliver the fateful punishment. Bloo winced. A mental image of an extremely angry bunny with a scorching gaze can do that to a person.

This time, rather than plotting to escape the punishment, he merely accepted it. Or rather, his mind was more preoccupied with a mystery. _Madame_ _Foster's_ mystery. He absentmindedly spun the golden bracelet around with his arm.

_Just what secret would a kind, old lady like Madame Foster hide?_

"Bloo?"

The azure blob hastily hid the piece of jewelry securely under his pillow. As he turned to the doorway, Mac appeared in sight. The boy plodded over and sat down onto the floor next to him, astonished.

"Wow, I'm surprised you're this quiet. I mean, I thought you'd be causing trouble again!"

Bloo rolled his eyes.

"So...what do you want to do?"

Bloo smiled dreamily.

"Secret..."

"What are you..."

Mac backed off, shaking his head.

"Nuh-uh, Bloo, that's not an option. Anything but that. Remember what Madame Foster said? And besides, you already know what's inside that trapdoor-"

"No, not what's inside the trapdoor! I want to know the reason behind it! Why did Madame Foster hide it?"

"Bloo, for the last time, Madame Foster is NOT a pirate!" Mac said in exasperation.

"How would you know?"

"Wha-Bloo, this is silly. Let's do something else, like playing with your paddleballs! Or-"

Bloo stubbornly crossed his arms and plopped down onto the floor.

"No."

"Oh, come on, Bloo, Madame Foster has a perfectly good reason to-"

"Again, how would _you_ know?"

Mac sighed.

"I don't, okay? But intruding into other people's private affairs isn't responsible, Bloo!"

Bloo slowly faced him with sad puppy dog eyes. _Uh oh..._

"I admit, I'm not the most responsible friend here. I blow things up, paint the house in a mess, and create a fiasco all the time. Oh, I know, Mac. But if you promise to help me solve this mystery - just this once - I won't cause trouble for another week!"

For a moment, Mac pondered for several agonizingly long seconds.

"Bloo..."

Bloo looked up, flashing those sad doe eyes.

"Pleeeeeease?"

Mac slapped a hand to his face. _What mess had he gotten himself into...?_

"...Fine. But we only solve the mystery, okay? No hijacking cars, spreading rumors, stealing..."

Mac swore that Bloo had looked slightly guilty for a second. He must have been mistaken, however, for the cerulean creation in question was now crowing happily with victory.

"Yes! Thanks, Mac, you're the best kid an imaginary friend could ask for!"

_He sure knows how to flatter people. _Mac thought.

"But you swear not to cause trouble?"

"I swear! Now stop asking useless questions and help me with the preparations! Ooooo! We need a name...Detective Duo? Nah, that sounds lame..."

"Bloo Cheese? It absolutely fits us." Mac suggested sarcastically. Bloo made a face.

"Ugh! No way!"

They burst into laughter until their sides felt like they were going to split. Gasping, Mac composed himself.

"Hey, how about...Kazoo Operations? K.O. for short?"

Bloo grinned, extending a blobby appendage.

"All right, come on, buddy, let's bloo this!"

"I thought you said that you were too cool to _ever_ say that," Mac joked. Bloo kept a straight face.

"Yeugh! Who said that I ever said _that__? _Puleaase. Anyways, you'd better not mess up my picture-perfect plan."

"Likewise, pal."

They shook hands. The game was on.

* * *

For the first two days, Mac and Bloo searched for any clues that would lead them on the right path. However, they quickly realized one obvious flaw.

Being grounded, Bloo wasn't allowed to leave his room except for meals and bathroom breaks. Since Bloo wasn't allowed to leave the room, Mac would have to look for most of the clues outside alone. Pointing out that they were a team, Mac agreed to stay inside with Bloo until he was "ungrounded."

However, neither had made any headway, and since leaving the room was clearly not an option, nothing important had been found so far. Pondering about the answer to the secret itself was a task easily thrown out the window; Mac could lie on the bed and concentrate silently for _hours. _On the other hand, this activity frustrated the hyperactive Bloo to no end. After facing multiple distractions (one of them involving an pink slippers, celery, and mascara), they changed tactics. By the end of the second day, Mac and Bloo resolved to create a plan to _discover_ clues rather than _dwell_ on supposed theories.

The only benefit that came from being grounded was solitary time. The other imaginary friends were either afraid of provoking Mr. Herriman's wrath, or too bored to do nothing in a closed room. Just in case Wilt, Coco, or Eduardo would enter, Mac said that they were busy doing homework and didn't want to be disturbed. Although somewhat suspicious, they eventually agreed to leave the friends alone.

* * *

"Where's the copper wire?"

"Right here. I'm fixing it up...Where's the map?"

"I'm drawing it!"

Throughout the last day of Bloo's punishment, the duo worked hard. They argued over which tactic was smarter, tossed around possible ideas, and innovated distractions. Bloo even drew a Blueprint (haha, blooprint) along with several diagrams.

The combined efforts of both the logical thinker and mastermind prankster eventually led to a fabrication of a mental inspiration born from creativity that would produce a favorable outcome.

In other words, the plan would succeed.

* * *

The door stayed shut and unmoving.

Again.

_Be patient, Mac's coming in a few minutes..._

The azure blob was striving to remain hidden behind Madame Foster's stone bust. He peeked out, muscles tensing, as he gazed ruefully at the main entrance.

_Stupid piece of wood._

The infernal door remained motionless.

_OPEN SESAME! _

Not even a small twinge of movement.

"Hello?"

The door burst open. Acting on reflexes, Bloo let out a battle cry and soared through the air...

"Ackpth! Geez, Bloo, I hope you're not thinking of pouncing on anyone ringing the doorbell! You just frightened the pizza man pretty badly ten minutes ago. He looked like he was going to wet his pants right there on the spot!"

Bloo looked straight into familiar emerald-green eyes. Whoops.

"Ahahaha...hi Frankie."

"Just because you're not grounded doesn't mean you're excused for life! Now can you please peel yourself off my face?"

The azure imaginary friend complied, immediately releasing his grasp and landing lightly onto the ground. A brown-haired boy peeked from behind and chortled.

"You missed!"

"I did not! I was purposely aiming for Frankie!"

"Oh really?" The red-haired caretaker asked, a wicked grin gracing her features. "Well, in that case, I'll say that you've already caused trouble - oh yes, I know what you promised Mac," she added at Bloo's horrified expression. "And I _could_ ground you again for that..."

"This is a-a b-big misunderstanding ..." Bloo stammered nervously.

"Of course it was. I was merely reminding you of the consequences," Frankie said sweetly.

As the imaginary friend gulped audibly and stammered, Frankie started to laugh, ruffling Mac's hair and patting Bloo on the head with her hand.

"I wouldn't worry, Bloo! But you're lucky that I'm not Mr. Herriman." Frankie added with a wink. "I'd avoid him for a month if I were you. Well, as long as you don't cause any trouble today (Mac gave a guilty twinge that went unnoticed) I think you'll be fine. Now run along."

Frankie walked away, whistling a merry tune.

* * *

Mac peered around the corner.

"No one's here."

"Perfect!" Bloo flashed a thumbs up.

"We're lucky that Mr. Herriman doesn't have the entire house on surveillance."

"Eh, that rabbit has _no_ appreciation for technology."

They cautiously approached Madame Foster's room.

"Okay, remember, I'll act as look-out. If anyone comes too close, I'll distract them. If I can't, well, you know the rest." Mac elaborated.

"Kazoo Operations initiating plan 60485, a.k.a. Madame Foster Mystery."

They exchanged high fives.

"Kids rule!"

They separated, each off to complete their respective duties. Mac hurried off, making sure the coast was clear as Bloo studied the lock on Madame Foster's door. Mr. Herriman constantly reminded Madame Foster to use one,but due to her wild, active nature, the owner of the house would protest vehemently against it. To no one's surprise, the lock would end up "vanishing" after a few days. Apparently, today was not one of those lucky days.

But Blooregard Q. Kazoo was not to be thwarted.

He poked the copper wire into the lock and twisted it gently. Nothing happened for the first few tries. Finally, on his fourth attempt, he tasted sweet success. He carefully turned the knob and rolling into the empty room like a ninja, closed the door behind him. He waited for a tense moment, then relaxed.

_That dresser looks brown...Ahahaha, who would have pink wallpaper?_

"Focus, Bloo," he admonished himself. "Think, think, think, what am I supposed to find again...?"

_Anything suspicious...old jewelry receipts...Mac had also said to look for a possible diary..._

* * *

"Hi there, Mac! What are you doing here?"

The boy turned abruptly to the source of noise. He smiled in relief.

"Hey, Wilt! Hi Coco! Oh, I'm playing hide and seek with Bloo. What are you guys doing here?"

"Coco Coco Coco."

"We're going to Madame Foster's room to pick up some copies of the adoption form. Apparently, Mr. Herriman ran out of them, and there's a family wanting to adopt a friend," Wilt explained.

Mac stood up quickly.

"I can do that for you."

Wilt flashed one of his trademark smiles.

"No, it's okay, I've got it. I'd hate to bother you anyway."

"No, you're not bothering me at all, Wilt. Actually, can I get them? I might be able to find Bloo while I hand you the papers."

Coco gave a confused look.

"Coco Co Cocococo co?"

"Yeah, the door should be locked, right? So wouldn't Bloo be staying somewhere else?"

Mac frantically thought of an excuse. As an idea lit up in his head, he pretended to think hard.

"Uh, you do have a point...But can I just tag along then? I could help find the slips!"

"Well, I guess if you really want to..."

"Just give me a minute. Since Bloo's hiding on this floor, I need to let him know that I paused the game."

Wilt threw a inquisitorial glance.

"But if you don't know where Bloo is, how would you tell him...?"

* * *

Bloo searched the room, uncovering hats and shirts, nail polish and a flamethrower (why on earth would _that_ be in there?) , but no diary. He begin to look under the bed, frustrated.

"Oh come on, where would I put receipts...?"

He shifted through the photos on the dresser. An old, upturned frame caught his eye. From what he could tell, it had been purposefully flipped over to cover the picture.

He picked up the old photo and blew off all the gray dust. Wiping the grime off the glass, he peered closely at the picture. A little, red-headed child with green eyes (probably around 5 years old?) was sitting on a chair, grinning toothily at the camera. Standing behind her was a smiling, blonde-haired woman with a kind face and a smartly-dressed man with equally fiery-crimson hair. Both adults had blue eyes.

A piece of paper poked out from beneath the frame. He pulled it out, and started silently reading the message scrawled on the sheet.

_Dearest Mother, _

_The family's moved into town last week. We can hardly wait to see you on Thanksgiving! After that last stay in Egypt, I kept thinking of your cooking and miss it so much, especially your homemade chocolate-chip cookies. Of course, Jenny doesn't understand why I have such an addiction to them. My little Frankfurter, on the other hand, loves them even more than I do. I didn't know if that was even possible._

_Like the other __countless __times I've left on business trips, I've enclosed a little present for you to enjoy. I know you've always had a thing for cobras, but decided against it. Please understand: I disapprove of animal trade and I had a feeling Mr. Herriman would have gained another phobia to be put lightly. He almost had a heart attack when I brought Fluffy last Christmas -_

A knocking sound jerked Bloo out of his reverie. A series of knocking sounds.

He recognized it with a jolt: Norse code. Bloo had learned it in one of his earliest years back in Mac's apartment. When Terrence was in a foul mood and wanted to torment the duo, one would knock quietly on the wall to warn the other. The duo would then hide in Mac's closet until Terrence became bored and gave up. It was a scary feeling, knowing that a predator was prowling on the loose sniffing out for its prey, but it was also comforting to know that there was someone else stuck at your side. Literally.

Bloo shook his head. Now wasn't the perfect time for recollecting the good old days of yore. He hastily began to decipher the knocks.

_...Coming in...Hide...Wilt and Coco are coming in...Hide..._

The azure figment paled. _Where could he hide...? No...not there...Umm.._

He stuffed the letter back into the picture frame and rolled under the bed. Not a second too soon.

The knocks halted. Right afterwards, footsteps thumped closer.

"That's weird...the door was already opened," Wilt's muffled voice came from above.

"Coco co."

"Uh, maybe Madame Foster broke the lock on purpose." Mac's voice drifted down to the bed. "Wilt, I found them!"

Wilt's sneakers squeaked on the floor as he passed the bed.

"Thanks Mac, now that I have the forms - Actually, you know what, I think I should tell Mr. Herriman that the lock's _mysteriously_ broken again. I mean, Madame Foster deserves a proper lock even if she doesn't use it."

Wilt jogged out of sight, Coco trailing behind. Their footsteps echoed in softer tones until nothing was heard.

"Bloo...where are you?" Mac whispered urgently. "We have to leave before Mr. Herriman arrives!"

Bloo poked his head from beneath the bed, blinking in disorientation at the sudden shift in light. Mac grabbed his arm and dragged him out. Stumbling, The two stumbled into the hallway and ran off.


	4. Chapter 4: Jarred back to Reality

**Author's Note: I'm baaaack...did you miss me? ;)**

**I apologize for the delay. ACT is coming up this month. AHHHHH _ Don't hurt me! I promise to upload more chapters.**

**I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends and other franchise used in the text.**

**And here's chapter 4.**

* * *

"You found nothing except that letter behind the photo?" Mac asked with a disappointed expression.

"Absolutely nothing. I did find a flamethrower though. _Suspicio-_OW!" Bloo rubbed his arm. "No need to elbow me so hard. Geez."

Mac paced around in circles.

"We didn't find anything that explains our mystery, Bloo! It just doesn't make sense at all! And how do these things tie in?...maybe they're not supposed to be connected...but who on earth is Jenny?"

Bloo's eyes widened.

"Mac...what if...?"

Mac paused, plopped down, listening alertly.

"Yeah...?"

"What if...what if..."

"Uhuh..."

"What if Madame Foster's...a PIRATE?" Bloo blurted out dramatically.

Mac threw a bemused glance.

"Okay! Sheesh, you have no appreciation for my genius what-so-ever. But honestly, that girl in the picture looked a lot like a mini Frankie. With shorter hair. But I think she'd look better in a ponytail."

Mac suddenly bolted up from his seat.

"Wait, repeat that!"

"Ponytail."

"No, what you said before that."

"A."

"No, I mean repeat what you said about Frankie!"

"Oooh...that little girl in the picture looked a lot like her...? Hey, you're not seriously thinking..."

"If that girl was Frankie, that means...the people in the photo...were her parents?"

Bloo gaped.

"Hold on! even if you're right, how does this explain the trapdoor...?"

Mac's shoulders sagged.

"I don't know, Bloo. But I want to know what Frankie's father did for a job and what he gave Madame Foster. I mean, the letter stated that he went on several business trips...What was his occupation anyway? It _might_ lead to a trail. _Might_."

Bloo shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't get how knowing that would help. They're both completely different, unrelated pieces of information!" The blob pointed out.

"It's a start...We'll think of something tomorrow. See you later, Bloo," Mac said absentmindedly, standing. Brushing off the dust from his pants, he heaved his bag over his shoulder and hurried out leaving a clueless azure blob behind.

* * *

_Sunshine beamed. Light rays streamed across the desert, bathing everything in a golden glow. The sand sizzled and sweltering heat pressed against him like a pillow. In the distance it was just possible to spot a few sand-sprinkled buildings._

_He snorted. How ironic that "home" seemed to have hard conditions. No sane imaginary friend would voluntarily think of living here, much less found a city. He would never understand humans._

_Except maybe one._

"_TAG! You're it, Domovoi! You're it!"_

_A small force pushed his back. As he stumbled, a mischievous young face loomed into view. Soft honey-brown eyes entered his gaze, and ringing laughter pealed through the air. He felt his own mouth tug irresistibly into a grin._

"_Oh yeah? Horus, the game has only begun."_

_The young child squealed and tried to scramble away, but twas too late. He launched himself into the air like a rocket, extending his purple arms. He tackled the child, and they rolled across the hot sand like rotating wheels. They came to a halt at last, giggling, each trying to push the other into the sand._

_A voice called in the distance, cutting their playtime short._

_Horus paled and retreated. Noticing this, the imaginary friend gently gave the child a little nudge._

"_It's okay, I'll wait for you. Go inside, you little rascal." He said in a teasing tone to lift the mood halfheartedly._

_Something suddenly seized his waist in a vice-like grip. Looking down, he realized that a frightened Horus had wrapped his tiny arms around him. Terrified eyes searched through his soul._

"_Promise? Promise you'll never leave me?"_

_The same question never ceased to bother him, and he gently responded to his naïve inquiry._

"_I promise, little one. I promise."_

* * *

Bloo shook his head. Funny how of all the drifting dreams he had, this one clung onto his consciousness like a leech. Definitely odd.

"Hi Bloo! What are you doing here?"

He jumped, screaming, to face…

A very familiar tall, red-colored imaginary friend.

"Oh, uh, hi Wilt!" he said feebly.

Wilt looked down at him in concern.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've been standing in front of the main door the whole morning. And you're acting so strangely."

"Oh, it's….umm…ah haha…"

"Wait…oh! I think I know what this is all about!" Wilt exclaimed, staring down at him accusingly.

"Uh, I have _no_ idea what you're talking about, Wilt."

"It's about yesterday, isn't it?"

Bloo gulped. _Oh_ _boy…_

"Y-You got the w-w-wrong impression! I-I was-"

"It's about my armband, right?"

Bloo blinked.

"Huh?"

"You see, I noticed that you looked slightly guilty about asking me for one of my armbands. It's okay, that was just a spare! The one Jordan gave to me is right here! I wear it around my wrist all the time!"

"Uh yeah...thanks Wilt."

"Anytime! And don't worry about it!" Wilt winked. Taking long strides, he vanished out of sight.

Bloo checked to make sure the coast was clear. Then he swept out his right arm which indeed did have a think armband around it. He prodded the armband with his "fingers" and sighed with relief.

_Yep, the bracelet was safe._

After Mac had left, he had retrieved it from his pillow. Bloo had finally decided that keeping it with him at all times would be safer. That way, he would never be able to lose it.

Of course, the armband had been used to cover it up. Luckily, the protruding bulge wasn't very noticeable.

_Safe and sound._

Exhaling a sigh, he impatiently glanced at the clock. 12:00 PM. He had to wait for _three_ more hours for Mac. _Three_ more hours until they could explore Madame Foster's case together. _Three_ more hours of excruciating patience and monotony.

_I've got to find something to do...I've got to find something to do! I'll go crazy with boredom!_

As if by divine intervention, Frankie burst out of the dining room, yelling behind her.

"Okay, sheesh! Mr. Herriman, I'll go right now to buy the vegetables!"

As soon as the door closed, Frankie let the extreme irritation cloud her face.

"I'm not even done washing the dishes. He's definitely going to chew me out for that later. Oooh...that rabbit! Besides, it'll take me several trips to and from the bus to unload all this food…" she muttered.

Wilt poked his head through the doorway.

"You need any help, Frankie?"

Her face brightened up immediately.

"Yeah, Wilt, can you come to the grocery store with me in a minute? I could use a helpful hand."

"Sure thing!"

"Okay then, hang on, I need to go grab my purse and keys…"

As Frankie rushed up the stairs, Wilt strode right in the entrance room. As he recognized Bloo still standing in front of the clock, he beamed.

"Hey Bloo!"

"Hi Wilt! **Cough** How are **cough** you doing **wheeze** today?" Bloo gasped, praying that he sounded convincing. Wilt's jovial face changed to a more concerned look.

"Are you okay, Bloo? I'm sorry, but you sound awful!"

"No, it's nothing," Bloo muttered, flapping his blobby arm around in a carefree manner. The pitch black,dark rings around his eyes seemed more pronounced. Wilt shook his head vigorously.

"Oh no! You're definitely _not_ okay! Wait a sec! Frankie!"

Frankie scurried down the stairs with the keys in her fist, purse swinging on her left arm.

"What now Wilt? I hope it's not too much trouble…"

She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the blue trouble maker.

"You-"

"Frankie, I think Bloo looks a little ill. I'm sorry, but we should bring him to the pharmacy for some cough syrup."

The red-headed caretaker shook her head with such force that she resembled a bobble head.

"Oh no, I am _not_ falling for that look, mister!"

"But Frankieeee," Bloo whined piteously, latching onto her leg with a sad look. "I don't **cough** feel **hack** well."

Frankie groaned.

"Bloo…"

"Please? Don't leave me here!"

She noticed the Bloo's expression. _True, he was probably going to cause trouble and his pitiful look was certainly a facade (Bloo absolutely _hated_ NyQuil). But who knew what other disaster he might cause after she left the house..._

"Okay, fine. But if you cause another fiasco like...like kicking people's shins at the mall, you're going to be grounded for the rest of this week. Got that, mister?"

"Wooohooo!" Bloo pumped a fist into the air and ran out the door laughing.

"Wait, so...Bloo's not sick?" Wilt asked bewildered.

"Oh he's definitely not all right," Frankie said, grinning at the blob's ridiculous reaction.

Bloo poked his head through the door.

"So...are you guys coming, or what?"

Frankie casually passed Bloo with a knowing air and a smirk.

"We're ready to go...once you wipe that mascara from your eyes."

* * *

"Are we there yeeeet?"

"Bloo! That's the seventh time you've asked! And I said we've still got a while to go!"

"But it's 2:00...Mac will be there in an hour..."

Frankie resisted the urge to hit her head against the steering wheel. The traffic was much worse than she expected, Bloo was wailing like a 3-year-old, and she had a horrible headache. At first she dismissed the pain, but it was growing more painful with passing time. In the depths of her brain, it felt like as if a sledgehammer pounded against her skull, releasing countless waves of twisted agony.

Maybe Bloo did feel sick and have a contagious illness. Whatever it was, she was definitely going to eat some Advil and feed Bloo the cough syrup. Hopefully, that would put him right to sleep and also give her some peace and quiet. Wilt seemed to notice her crabby attitude.

"Frankie, do you want me drive? You look...worn down."

"I'm just peachy keen, Wilt." She snarled. Regretting her outburst, Frankie sent an apologetic glance at the rearview mirror. "I'm sorry, Wilt. I'm just frustrated. Besides, you don't have a driver's licence."

The bus finally escaped from the busy interstate highway and veered into an narrow street. Because of its large size,the bus trudged at slightly slower pace, carefully maneuvering through the road.

"Frankieeeeeeeeee-"

"I said NO, Bloo!"

Bloo crossed his arms, and flopped down in his seat.

"You never want me to have anything good."

"Bloo, leave Frankie alone. Why don't you go to sleep? Sorry, but you look tired."

"But I don't wanna sleeeep..."

"Fine then. Just eat this pack of chips and stay still." The red-head interrupted, tossing the potato snack behind her.

"Really...?"

"Yes, really."

The azure figment snatched up the packet and opened it with a wild glee. As he savored each chip with a child-like delight, Bloo was struck with a question. There could be no better opportunity to ask the caretaker.

"Frankie?"

"Mhmm?"

He lightly tapped Frankie on the shoulder.

"You know, what happened to your parents? I nev-"

A particularly piercing jab of pain suddenly slammed into her brain as Frankie's headache flared up. Flinching in response, Frankie jerked the steering wheel violently. With a series of sinister screeches, the bus swerved around in circles. Potato chips swirled like autumn leaves.

"FRANKIE!"

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Frankie struggled to right the bus's course, but to no avail; the hunk of metal stubbornly refused to obey her wishes.

"I'm losing control of the bus! Wilt, Bloo! Hold on to something!" She yelped in panic, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her hands turned an interesting shade of purple. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Wilt wrapping an lanky arm around the blue creation, who had been thrown into the air. The bus shuddered and vibrated as it squealed across the pavement like a multicolored tornado of colors.

"Woooaaaaah!" Wilt yelled, using all his strength to keep himself from being pitched out of a window.

"N-n-n-not c-c-c-c-cool!" Bloo yelped, twirling around in such a dizzying speed that he resembled a blurred aquamarine basketball.

Out of the front window, an incoming car loomed. Bloo paled.

"C-c-car! Outside!" he shrieked in horror, pointing at the accelerating piece of metal.

Frankie turned her head, and her eyes dawned with realization.

"HYAAAAAAAA!"

With a burst of strength, she forcefully tugged the steering wheel to the left.

_Please don't hit...please don't hit..._

The car came closer...

Closer...

Too close...

It veered off, barely missing them.

"Go Frankie!" Bloo cheered.

Frankie flashed a grin to the imaginary friends behind her as the bus continued to whirl around.

"Phew! That was close."

Unbeknownst to her, a lamp post was rapidly approaching the driver's window. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger...

"Frankie! Look out!" Wilt bellowed, darting forward.

* * *

The door swung open.

"Bloo!" The 8-year-old called. He paused, looking around.

_Perhaps he's in the arcade...?_

Mac climbed up the stairs, only to almost bump into the furry belly of a giant rabbit.

"Oops...Sorry, Mr. Herriman."

"Ah Master Mac, have you by any chance seen Miss Frances?"

"Um, no."

"Oh. Very well, carry on."

Muttering about the dangers of laziness and ineptitude, Mr. Herriman hopped out of sight, leaving one very dumbfounded child in his wake. As quickly as the authoritative rabbit left, Mac came face to face with a worried Madame Foster.

"Mac, do you know where Bloo and Wilt are?"

"No, I don't," he replied, completely bewildered.

"No?" she repeated anxiously.

"Madame Foster, what's going on? I arrived just now and Mr. Herriman thinks that Frankie's disappeared!"

"Yes! They're gone!" The headmistress wrung her hands and began to babble frantically. "Frankie left with the bus to pick up groceries around noon...hasn't picked up her cellphone, nosiree...Ha, probably on a detour since Wilt and Bloo tagged along..."

Mac's blood turned into ice as a chill trickled down his spine. _What if...no, pull yourself together! Bloo's not stupid, Wilt's responsible, and Frankie has loads of driving experience...stop worrying over nothing..._

"The traffic's pretty bad on the highway," Mac said hopefully. "They're probably late..."

The house phone rang. Madame Foster snatched it up in a frenzy.

"This is Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends...why yes, I'm Madame Foster, how may I..."

Madame Foster froze. For all of the wonders of the world, she could have been a marble statue. Then, she suddenly moved with a ferocity that Mac jumped. Dropping the phone onto the ground, she shrieked,

"Mr. Herriman!" Unwavering as always, her imaginary friend materialized immediately at her side.

"Yes, Madame?"

"Take care of the house affairs while I'm gone!" Glaring at a Coco and Eduardo who had just appeared at the scene of the yelling, the owner of the house pushed them outside.

"Out, out, out! Chop, chop, we don't have all the time in the world, you know!"

Nabbing Mac by the sleeve, Madame Foster led (or _pushed_) all three toward her car. As they hurriedly crammed themselves in the back seats, she jammed the keys into the ignition, and sped out of the garage.

As she drove like a lunatic down the street, hands trembling violently and eyes burning with a maniac energy, Mac gathered enough courage to quietly ask her a very important question.

"Madame Foster? Where are we going?"

The woman gave no sign of hearing his inquiry, the color draining from her fingers as madly swerved through traffic. The maniac energy seemed to have shattered into a thousand particles of sand while her shoulders slumped. When she finally answered his question curtly, Mac felt his heart fall like a stone.

"The hospital."

* * *

**Author's note: Dun Dun Dun! Cliffhanger~ Stay tuned for more.**


	5. Chapter 5: Phantom Memories

**Author's note: Happy July, folks! ****For the past few months while finishing off exams and work, I've been developing the plotline for this story, adding changes and details to my Doc Manager. I still have bits and pieces of the story that I still want to add in. But seriously, thanks for all the favs, follows, and comments during the long wait!**

** Guest: I planned to address you _way_ before, but I guess I wasn't really used to using such a public website like Fanfiction back then. Thanks for your comment! **

** TheBigChillQueen: Sorry, I love evil cliffhangers. Is that okay? ;) Other than that, I'm glad that you like the story so far! Thanks for your support!**

** eliimg: My updating is slow (about to enter my senior year of high school), but at the moment I'm not planning on dropping the story. Aww...You flatter me with your comment; Dude13 and other authors have such great works in Foster's fanfiction! But as a writer, I'm glad that you enjoy my work! After all, I am here to entertain. **

**Don't be afraid to criticize my work! I admit that writing isn't my greatest forte.**

**Just further clarification: **

**_"Thinking"_**

**"Talking"**

**And the usual "I do not own FHFIF." Now to the story!**

* * *

"FRANKIE!"

The young red-headed girl in question sped up faster. Panting heavily, she pranced over the concrete walkway like a gazelle, rushing like the wind past the opened gates and diving rather ungracefully into the bushes. Leaves rustling under her weight, her heart thumped like beating drums in a marching band, echoing into the deepest abyss of her soul.

_Ba-dump..._

_Ba-Dump..._

_Ba-DUMP..._

Hearing the heavy footfalls thumping closer, the little girl slapped a hand to her mouth, not wanting to give away her position.

But it was too late; a tall man draped in a dark overcoat stepped into the yard. Scanning the frontyard in a critical manner, he unleashing a loud, booming voice into the tranquil evening air.

"Frankie! Fraankieee! Now, I wonder where my Frankenfurter went?"

Shoulders convulsing in a futile attempt to stop her giggles from leaking out, the little girl ducked her head lower behind the fresh green leaves, grinning widely like a mischievous child caught in the act. The blue eyes of the man peeked through the foliage, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Is she right here?"

Pretending that he didn't hear the stifled sound of childish giggles, the crimson-haired man lifted up his arms with a dramatic flourish in mock horror.

"Oh no, I can't find Frankie! Whatever shall I do?"

When no one replid, his mouth twitched upwards with a hint of a smile, and he slowly stepped towards the house.

"What a shame. I called Grandma Foster over today to bake cookies, but it looks like Frankie's gone! I guess I'd better eat them all myself. Mmmmmmmmm..."

Frankie resisted the urge to bolt out, trying to control herself from speaking out. But when several seconds passed, her father laid down his aces.

"And they're _double_ chocolate chip too."

Unable to bottle her panic anymore, she flung herself out. Frankie scrambled to her feet, pumping her arms and yelling frantically,

"No, I'm right here! Don't eat them yet! Dad! DAAAAAD!"

Laughing at his trick, Mr. Foster opened his arms wide as the terrified red-haired youngster raced in a hurry. Sweeping her up in a hug, the man picked up the now pouting child.

"That was mean."

Her father stared at her with an incredulous look.

"Look who's talking! Which little missy punched me in the arm and tried to hide over here like a squirrel?"

"But that's because you poked me! Twice! Not fair."

"Yes it was!"

"You owe me five cookies, dad."

"One."

"No, three!"

"Deal."

"Not before dinner, Arthur!" Hollered her mother's voice from the kitchen. Pouting slightly again, Frankie quickly burst out into reluctant giggles when Mr. Foster poked her ticklish side for the third time that day. He waggled his fingers in front of her face teasingly and flicked them away when she tried to grab them.

"Now we're even."

The little girl started to truly laugh, her high-pitched chime melding in with her father's warm, booming laughter. Suddenly, the familiar scene started to dissolve like disintegrating sand. Gone was her father, her child home, her mother's cozy kitchen. Gone were the warm splashes of orange and red in the evening sky, only to be replaced by icy darkness. Frankie spun dizzily into the gaping void as the inky darkness swallowed her like an open mouth. Confusion snatched at her bewildered thoughts as her stomach spun in vertigo.

"Wait, where am I? I was about to eat cookies with my father, and-hold on! This...this was a dream."

Feeling oddly disappointed, Frankie squinted into the blackness everywhere. Warily, she voiced her concerns out loud.

"Then why am I here?"

She gasped as a pair of giant yellow eyes opened in front of her, glowing eerily green in the darkness. One of them winked curiously as a disembodied voice rang out, sending goosebumps up her arm.

"Frankie Foster, I presume? What a disappointment. I was expecting much more from the grand daughter of the _great_ Madame herself."

"W-Who are you? Get out of my mind!"

The eye lazily drifted its pupils around-oh, it did not just roll its eyes at her comment!-and snapped back to survey her attentively.

"How rude. Of course, I should have not expected so much from a mere human. And your grandmother is no exception to that rule."

Frankie wanted to rip her hair up from the roots in frustration. She was speaking to her _subconscious_, for heaven's sake!

"You have no right to insult my grandmother!" She growled, gritting her teeth.

A bored sigh.

"I would love to see how long you can entertain me with your constant fits of rage, Ms. Foster. However, I am sadly inconvenient and have more important things to do than tend to _cast-off imaginary friends_. Until next time."

Suddenly, a giant mouth opened up beneath the pair of eyes, revealing huge white fangs. The dangerous teeth were at least ten times Frankie's height and glinted malevolently like jagged daggers.

"And correction: I am not your subconscious. In fact, I am _very_ real."

The looming jaws loomed over her, yellow eyes rolling in their sockets, and snapped up the running Frankie in one gulp. Frankie screamed as she fell into an endless, neverending hole of gloom and terror...

* * *

"AAARGH!"

"See? She's ALIVE! Back from the dead!"

"Bloo, don't poke her in the face!"

Her emerald-green eyes snapped open. White walls...Beeping heart monitor...no doubt she was in a hospital. Her grandmother was at her left, staring at her anxiously.

But at the moment, something else caught her attention. A blue creature with narrowed eyes was standing on her stomach, staring into her eyes less than half an inch away.

"You sure she's not zombified?"

"Eeeeeek!"

Bloo clapped his hands over his ears wincing.

"Man, you did _not_ have to scream in my face! OWW-_Hey!_"

The blob was quickly plucked out of her sight as if he disappeared into thin air. Blinking owlishly, she gazed to her right, where a bushy-haired boy was wrestling his creation away from the bed. Mac threw her an apologetic look. She accepted it silently with a nod, wincing as pain shot up from her left leg.

"Sorry, Bloo. And trust me, I'm definitely alive; anything is better than dead."

Frankie stared blankly at the ceiling as she pondered on her nightmare. How long had it been since she had ever thought about her parents again? After living with her grandmother for so long, it seemed so achingly painful, like the throbbing sensation on her leg. If only she could have met them before they died, showered them with affection, told them how much she loved them so...maybe she wouldn't have felt so regretful...She shuddered at the phantom memories. Add to that the nightmarish monster that had appeared in her dream and the whole thing sent up shudders crawling up her spine like spiders. Her stomach roiled uneasily. Something was going to go wrong...she _felt _it in her gut.

"Frankie, you _sure_ you're okay?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and gave an unconvincing smile to the little boy.

"I'm all right! Well, my headache's gone and-"

She was immediately seized into a loving, bonecrushing hug.

"Senorita Frankie! I was so sad because I thought we'd never see you again, and now, I'm so happy because you're all right!"

"Ack! Uh, Eduardo, I'm glad you're happy and all, but-OUCH- too tight!" she wheezed.

"Calm down, Ed!" Running over, a level-headed Mac attempted to console the purple guardian friend. Fortunately, Eduardo released the gasping Frankie. Unfortunately, he scooped up the poor boy instead and started squeezing him tightly like a drowning survivor glomping a life float.

"Ahhhhh Eduardo! Can't breathe!"

"Stop the sappy and put him down! EDUARDO!" Bloo hollered jumping up with his stubby _legs?_ as Coco trilled soothing notes to calm them down. The babble rose in din, but the two women paid them no heed.

Madame Foster strutted forward to Frankie and started smoothing her bed sheets.

"Dearie, are you all right?"

"I'm _fine_, grandma."

"Oh, bother with being fine! You were out for two days! That was one wild accident you had at-"

"Yes, I'm fine grandma! I'm perfectly normal!" Frankie snapped like a wounded animal, slightly flustered, as her relative converged on her like a mother hen.

Guilt crept into her heart when she realized how much emotional pain her grandmother had gone through. _How long had she been waiting here? What must she have felt when she picked up the phone, only to hear from the hospital? _

"I'm fine, grandma. Sorry for causing so much trouble." Frankie rephrased gently.

Both silently reconciled with softening gazes.

"It's a good thing Bloo looks unharmed...Wait! Where's Wilt? He's not seriously wounded, is he?"

Madame Foster snorted.

"I thought I was going to get a heart attack when that blob rolled around on the hospital floor in hysterics. He was completely unharmed, save a few bruises. Nothing permanent. Wilt's fine, but-"

"Madame Fossssster! Eduardo is being a big, fat, cry baby! Look!" Bloo yelled like a five-year-old toddler screaming for icecream.

"I is not fat! And I am not a CRY BABY!" Eduardo bellowed.

The hot debate completely demolished the heartfelt moment bluntly like a road wrecker. Before anyone could act, however, the familiar sound of squeaking basketball shoes filled the room. The interruption was probably _very_ welcome, as Madame Foster had suspiciously looked like she was going to throw a pitcher of ice-cold water onto the squalling mob.

"Wilt!"

The gentle-natured creature clambered over to halt the chaos. Rubbing his right arm-which Frankie noticed guiltily was in a cast-behind his head, Wilt hesitantly spoke.

"I'm really sorry to disturb you all, but please be quiet. Other patients are trying to rest, and arguing while Frankie's injured is, well...selfish."

His friends nodded in consent, embarrassed, and Eduardo released Mac. Immediately, Wilt blurted out his catchphrase.

"I'm sorry, is that okay?"

"Si, Senor Wilt!" Eduardo shifted his feet slightly, looking at the floor, trembling. "It's a good thing the doctor finally released you. He wouldn't let us see you because you were in that...scary place with knives...and...tuby thingies."

"I think what Ed's trying to say is that you were undergoing surgery. Apparently your bone had to be re-shifted into the correct position," explained Mac in a casual tone. The brunette glanced up, eyes betraying worry despite his calm demeanor. "I think a better question would be are _you_ okay?"

Wilt gently patted the boy on the head, grinning.

"Couldn't have felt better! But I can't use my arm for a while."

Madame Foster swiftly swept forward like a bird and tightly hugged Wilt.

"You saved my Frankie," she whispered. "How can I ever repay you?" Lowering himself to her level, Wilt gently reassured her with soothing murmurs. Coco raced towards the red giant, voicing her own concerns at his welfare and even laying an egg containing a basketball for him.

Suddenly, nabbing an unsuspecting Bloo by the hand ("Hey, what gives?") and Wilt by the arm (gently), Frankie hugged them both tightly.

"I am so sorry! You guys could have...could have...It's all my stupid fault!" The redhead burst out, eyes blinking rapidly, unable to keep the fat tears from rapidly escaping from the corners of her eyes like slick raindrops.

"Eeeww...cooties."

"Bloo, you're so insensitive!"

"Ugh, what is it with all the hugging today?"

"But I muy muy like hugs..."

"It's okay, Frankie, no one was seriously injured. Everything's okay," Wilt said, patting her on the arm.

"Coco!"

"Thanks Coco, I needed that," Frankie said, grabbing a few tissues from the offered box the bird-airplane-plant thing held out gently.

"GROUP HUG!"

Everyone gathered around to console the depressed caretaker.

"Aww...you guys..."

Nothing could break the cheesy, warm mood except-

"EWWWWWWWW! Put me down! No more hugs!" a particular blob screeched. Rather than losing spirit, Frankie sported a mischievous grin.

"Oh really? Well then, Mr. tough guy, I bet you would _love_ to show off your tickle tolerance to all of us here..."

The azure creation blanched as Frankie grinned wickedly like a crocodiles smiling toothily at its prey. Before swallowing it whole. _Head first._

"You wouldn't dare."

After a short face-off, she suddenly whipped her finger into the air and yelled a battle cry.

"CATCH HIIIIIM!"

"NOOO! Don't you touch me, zombie queen! I know _all_ your dirty tricks, and no one's going to fall for them! You hear me? NO ONE! Wha-Why are you all obeying her commands?! BACK OFF! Ge-AAAAHHH!"

As the group playfully ran around to catch Bloo, one individual walked away from the group. Smiling peacefully at the sight (for now Bloo was trapped in Eduardo's embrace, hollering his distaste), she started muttering to herself.

"Frankie is definitely _your _daughter. Who else gets into trouble like there's no tomorrow? Not me, nosiree. The bunny kept me out of that."

* * *

Frankie sighed. Deeply. The caretaker heaved up a big bucket full of water up the stairs. After a day or two's rest at the hospital (and taking headache medication), she had so much work to catch up. A mountain of chores. More like an avalanche to be more precise.

"Frankie?"

The ever helpful Mac was lugging behind a mop nearly twice his height. Frankie chuckled at the sight. Now if only a certain _b__lue_ _blob_ could follow simple instructions...

Setting the mop down temporarily after he reached the floor, Mac wiped the sweat from his face.

"I finished your paperwork downstairs and Wilt's placing the boxes in the attic with Eduardo. They should be done by now."

"Thanks, pal," Frankie said gratefully. "Now we only have to cover this hallway...

Which was completely covered in white flour like powdered snow.

"I'll never understand. How is Bloo so different from you?!" Frankie groaned, walking through the corridor. "I swear, he's in trouble like, _every single darn day_! Your imaginary friend, Mac..."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey, I heard that!"

They halted when a familiar azure blob poked his head out from a room. Mac rolled his eyes as Frankie stomped over, realization dawning her eyes...

"Bloo! Get out of there! That's Madame Foster's room!"

"Oh. Okay." Bloo swept into the room without a care in the world.

"Bloo!" Frankie charged in. "You stop here, mister, or I'll-"

She froze.

"H-hi grandma..."

Madame Foster gave no indication that she heard her granddaughter's hysterical cries. Instead, she warmly beamed from her armchair.

"Oh, Frankfurter! Sit down, sit down! I was just telling stories to the young ones 'ver here," she said, pointing at Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco sitting on the rug. Bloo stood in the corner with a smug expression. The fire was merrily blazing, giving the room a cozy mood in the chilly evening.

"B-but Grandma! I still have to finish wiping this floor and-"

"Oh phooey! Take a break now, dearie. I insist! That bunny can get his ears in a twist all by himself. Goodness gracious, I would say you're already under a lot of stress already even without those silly chores!"

Walking over, she pulled Frankie into the room despite her protests. As Mac stood at the doorway, hesitating, the owner of the house faced him.

"Stop lollygagging and come in, laddie! I promise I won't bite."

The young boy took uncertainly took steps toward the others.

"Have some tea!"

"Uh, thanks, grandma."

"Oh, don't thank me. Thank Wilt! He came up to my room and asked me if I wanted some. That overworked charmer! I told him to sit here and take a rest like you. All of you aren't, well, robots! Ahahahaha! You have no disregard for your own health what-so-ever..."

Frankie's tense muscles relaxed as she sipped the fresh, herbal tea, its steam spiraling into the air. As she reveled in this sudden luxury, Madame Foster settled comfortably in her chair.

"Ah...so where was I?"

"The truck! You was piling the fruit into the garage, and then the driver saw you!" Eduardo said excitedly.

"Oh yes! I had to make a quick getaway, good old times! So I grabbed the cheese spray-"

"Madame Foster!"

"What is it now, Bloo? Can't it wait? I'm in the most interesting..."

After this outburst, several changes happened at once.

Madame Foster trailed off into stunned silence. Turning around at the blob, the crowd only met confusion when Bloo waved an old photograph into the air. Oblivious to the mood, the azure creation placed the frame, grinning, into the lap of the shocked woman.

Expecting Mac to deliver a reprimand, Frankie was bewildered when the boy in question seemed to be similarly struck mute, eyes widening in horror.

No one said a word. Then the awkward atmosphere was broken by the mischievous blob.

"Who's Arthur?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**** Oh wow. This chapter had so much cheese. xD The story will bring more action and suspense to come! **


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